


Day of the Un-Dead

by CloakedSparrow



Series: Collected Bat-Family Stories [27]
Category: Batman (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Children, Bat Family, Batdad, Dysfunctional Family, Family Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Past Character Death, daddy!Bats, super family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 04:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14783714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloakedSparrow/pseuds/CloakedSparrow
Summary: When the Wayne family is finally ready to bring Jason back from the deadlegally, they decide to have a private celebration first. Nothing particularly noteworthy happens when compared to the sort of things the family usually does together, but its still one of the best nights of Bruce's life.





	Day of the Un-Dead

Upon entering the manor from the Batcave, Bruce heard several voices coming from the ballroom. Considering how rarely they used that room, he decided to go see what his kids were up to. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but what he found had him standing in the doorway in perplexity. 

Dick was filing dozens of balloons from a helium tank that he’d either rented or recently purchased because Bruce was sure they hadn’t had one to begin with. Cassandra and Barbara Gordon were twirling an excessively long crepe paper ribbon. Kate and Lois Lane were hanging some completed crepe paper décor. Damian was painting a life sized donkey onto a large piece of poster-board while Jon Kent and Bizarro were cutting out donkey tails and adhering a piece of double sized tape to each, clearly setting up a game of pin the tail on the donkey. Conner Kent was attaching an eye bolt to the center of the ceiling, where a chandelier had hung previously, and was winding a rope through it that led to a large Batman pinata. 

Obviously, his kids were setting up for a party. Quickly running through the calendar in his head, Bruce realized it was Jason’s Day of the _Un_ dead party, something his kids had decided to call the day they presented Jason with the paperwork declaring him legally alive once more. 

Bruce also recalled that Dick had mentioned it last month, Tim had reminded him two weeks ago, and Alfred had reminded him again earlier that week. In fact, that morning Kate had made a comment that he better not be buried in a case. Bruce had assumed she was either just harassing him about his work ethic again or otherwise had something she needed him to do. He could have even agreed to helping her with something that day. He had a tendency to get lost in his cases sometimes. 

Usually, he didn’t mind so much, truth be told. But he _hated_ when it meant he forgot something important to his kids. 

At least this time he remembered before he let said child down. He still felt horrible whenever he thought of Tim’s last birthday. Alfred had been dropping hints all day and he still didn’t remember until he actually saw the cake. Tim acted as though it weren’t anything noteworthy. It didn't matter whether that was because he just didn’t want to make Bruce feel bad or because he’d learned what to prioritize from his father. It still made Bruce feel worse. 

He wondered if that was why several of his family members reminded him directly instead of Alfred dropping the usual hints when a big day for one of kids was approaching. They didn’t want to see a repeat of that event either. 

Thanks to their reminders, he was already prepared. He’d cleared his schedule for the day after Dick’s call, purchased a gift after Tim’s reminder, and had bought a card after Alfred’s. He just had to shower and change and he’d be set for Jason’s party. 

First, he decided he’d see if his family needed any help setting up. “Anything I can do?”

The immediate response was a racket of greetings. He couldn't help but smile when he was addressed as “B”, “Bruce”, “Father”, and “Mr. Wayne” simultaneously. 

“I think we’ve got the decorations handled.” Dick answered after everyone had finished acknowledging Bruce’s presence. Looking around the room with a smile, he continued. “I’m not sure what else is left to. You should check with Alfred and Timmy. They’re the organizers here. They’re in the kitchen.”

“I’ll do that.” Bruce looked around as well, taking in the assorted streamers, balloons, and huge banner hanging in the room. Not to mention the pinata, giant donkey painting, and what appeared to be a barrel for apple bobbing. It definitely was not what he would have set up, but something about an old fashioned family celebration sounded right for his family’s current climate. “It looks good in here.”

His comment was met by a few agreements, a few remarks of thanks, and Damian scoffing. “He’s not a child. I don’t see the need for all this...garishness.”

Bruce, Dick, Cassandra, and Jon all opened their mouths to respond but Kate beat them to it. “There’s no need to be jealous, Damian. If you want balloons and games at your next party, we’ll be more than happy to accommodate you.”

“I am not _jealous_ , you-!” 

Dick was quick to jump in. “Little, D-”

Again, Kate interrupted. Her tone wasn’t threatening, but promising. She looked down sternly from her perch on the ladder. “Kiddo, this is the last time I’m warning you: I am not your father or Dick. You take that tone with me again, and you’re training until you puke. Refuse, and you’re benched for two weeks. Got it?”

Damian looked incised, but before he could respond, Dick and Cassandra both shot him pointed looks that had him reconsider his response. It gave Bruce the brief opening he needed to intervene. 

“Damian, you don’t talk to Kate like that, or any other adult in this room.” He moved closer to his son and switched to Sanskrit so it wouldn’t be so obvious everyone was hearing him be reprimanded. The others were kind enough to return to their tasks as if they couldn’t understand Bruce, even though he was sure Kate and Dick did and Cassandra never needed to hear someone to figure out what they were saying. Even if the others couldn’t understand him, it was likely still clear he was scolding his son. He appreciated the gesture nonetheless. 

“You’re a good fighter, son, but you still have a lot to learn and we’re the ones who are going to teach you. Providing you show enough discipline to justify the time and effort. Losing your temper every time you’re embarrassed or think you weren’t shown the proper regard isn’t disciplined, its childish. Remember, there’s no shame in accepting that others are more skilled or knowledgeable than you are. It opens you to the opportunity to improve.”

Bruce could see Damian was conflicted. The boy couldn’t argue that his father wasn’t right without proving his case for him, but he probably wanted to argue out of simple pride. He clearly wanted to lash out verbally again. For a moment, Bruce thought he would settle for acting as though he didn’t truly care about such mundane things -something he was prone to lately- but instead the boy glanced at Dick.

His brother immediately made a motion of taking a deep breath and releasing it, his expression calm and encouraging as he did so. 

Damian took a breath, releasing it a little more sharply than one should for what is meant to be a calming breath, but the few seconds it took to check with Dick and then do it was enough time for Tidus to make his way to his owner’s side and nuzzle his hand. The boy glanced at his dog and then took another even breath as he petted him. 

A few more pets and breaths seemed to be enough for the boy to put a cap on his temper. “Very well, Father.” Damian returned to his painting as though nothing of significance had passed. His dog laid down beside him, giving a small wag of his tail when Dick quietly praised him. 

Bruce was pleased Damian was learning self control. He was also hesitantly hopeful that his youngest might one day learn to calm his mind, which would make the boy’s life so much easier in more ways than just making him a better vigilante. Also, not for the first time, he mentally kicked himself for ever doubting Alfred and Dick when they started getting Damian pets. The animals had been a boon for the boy’s personality. 

Bruce took a breath himself before turning back to Dick. While he was tempted to further the lesson while he was making ground, he knew continuing on the subject would be pushing Damian too much. The boy had to learn that he couldn’t fly off the handle every time he got irritated, and he certainly needed to learn to be more respectful of others, but he also had to learn that his family would respect him enough to give him time to cool down when he showed he needed it. He needed to remember that such courtesy went both ways.

“Do we have eyes on Jason to make sure he doesn’t arrive early?” Bruce had used the family text chain to invite all his kids for a family dinner so Jason wouldn’t be suspicious but would also be more inclined to agree, since he rarely turned down activities that included the whole family. 

His eldest smiled as he continued filling balloons. “Roy is going to keep him busy until seven. They’re helping Lian sell cookies for her Brown Bat troupe. I have no idea how that can take so long, but I trust Roy to keep him away and get him here on time and in one piece like he said he would.”

Bruce didn’t doubt it either. He also didn’t doubt that Jason would be arriving with a dozen boxes of Brown Bat cookies. 

Dick smiled as he continued his task. “I told Jay to grab you a box of Lemon-Berry Wonders...and one of Super S’mores. Don’t try to deny it, we all know you like them, even if they’re shaped like Superman’s crest.” 

The smile deepened. “I also asked Roy to sneak a picture of Jay selling cookies with Lian. You know _every_ cookie assistant has to wear the sash.”

Bruce smiled as well. “Send me a copy.” Once Dick assured him that he planned to send every member of the family a copy, he headed to the kitchen to check in with Alfred and Tim. 

The scents filling the kitchen were enough to have Bruce looking forward to dinner more than he already was. Cake and buns were clearly baking in the oven. Some sort of strawberry concoction was cooking on the stove. Freshly boiled potatoes were cooling on the counter. Alfred was forming seasoned meat into patties at one end of the kitchen and Tim was working on some sort of confection at the other end. Judging by the kitchen thermometer and empty cans of coconut milk near him, Bruce assumed it was some sort of coconut candy.

“It smells wonderful in here.” Bruce commented. Tim and Alfred both smiled. His second youngest thanked him.

As did Alfred. “Thank you, Master Bruce. We’re making some of Master Jason’s favorites. Burgers, jyagatama, grilled vegetable kabobs, strawberry cake, and chocolate and strawberry sorbets. Master Tim is currently working on cremitas de coco, as well.”

“I’m almost done. Why don’t I get started on the jyagatama while these cool?” Tim indicated the candies, which were cooling in little silicone molds shaped like assorted Bat Family crests and classic video game swag.

“That would be most helpful, Master Tim. Then once I finish with these, I’ll get the butter cream started.”

Tim checked the clock. “We’re making good time.”

“That we are.” Alfred agreed with a nod and a smile. 

“Anything I can do to help?” Bruce wasn’t as skilled as Tim or especially Alfred in the kitchen, but he could follow instructions well enough to assist them if they needed it. 

“I believe we should move the grill to the ballroom exit. No sense in making the guest wait for their food to make its way from the patio. We wouldn’t want their dinner to get cold.” Alfred stated the last as if serving a cold dinner was an insult comparable to spitting on their guests. 

Bruce couldn’t help but smile at the older man. “I’ll take care of that.”

“Thank you, Master Bruce.” 

Having five kids (three of which could put away a startling amount of food very quickly), plus himself, Alfred, and several friends that sometimes stopped by for a barbecue (despite the fact that Bruce could never recall inviting them) meant that Bruce had acquired a rather large grill. Fortunately, Bruce was used to heavy lifting and it had wheels on one end. It didn’t take him long to make his way around the manor. He decided to push it inside the ballroom, figuring that way no one (likely Alfred) would get left out of the festivities because they had to cook. He left it close enough to the door that ventilation wouldn’t be an issue and then he looked around the room again. 

The custom banner and home made streamers were all up. Balloons were practically covering the ceiling. There was a clear game corner, a clear dining corner, and of course, the large open area in the middle of the room for dancing or mingling.

Currently that space was occupied with only Lois, Cassandra, Damian, Jon, and Bizarro. It appeared that the woman was teaching the others how to wrap gifts nicely. Each of them had a large sheet of wrapping paper laid out before them and a box in their hands. 

“You want to lie it down so the front is on the paper.” Lois explained as she demonstrated.

Damian -who had been scowling- scoffed notably. Cassandra elbowed him before he could say anything. He rubbed his elbow and arched a brow at his sister, who gave him a warning look that wiped the scowl off his face. She then mimicked the ‘take a breath’ motion Dick had made earlier and the boy complied before turning to Lois again. 

“Can’t I just pay someone to wrap gifts for me?” The boy’s tone was as close to neutral as it ever was, so Bruce didn’t step in this time. Instead, he just kept an eye on his youngest. 

“You could.” Lois answered calmly. Her smile was gentle, but knowing. “But sometimes, its nice to be able to do things for yourself. If you forgot a gift until the last minute because you were busy fighting crime, you couldn’t always just say that, now could you?”

Damian appeared to consider the woman’s points.

Lois continued. “You also have to remember that you bear a famous name and there are people who will gossip or sale information on even a child. A less scrupulous reporter might hear you’re having a bracelet gift wrapped, or some perfume, and print a very scandalous article before you ever knew you were getting into trouble.”

That made the boy frown again. “I could simply say I was buying a gift for my sister or second cousin.”

The woman gave a considering shrug. “You could. _If_ its a good reporter who fact checks their work. Or someone who doesn’t like to spread hearsay. But that isn’t always the case. Just ask Tim about his ‘engagement’.”

Damian’s frown deepened into a scowl again. It seemed to be borne from indignation on his family’s part rather than aimed at his friend’s mother, so again Bruce didn’t step in. “Drake was never engaged.”

Lois gave a pointed nod. “Exactly. And the reporter should have known better than to write a headline without anything to back it up, but it still took months to get it all cleared up. Better to avoid the hassle, if you ask me. But its entirely up to you.”

“I don’t expect I would get into such trouble with a girl.” Damian sniffed, but then he picked up his present for Jason and placed it, front down, on the wrapping paper before him. “Still, I do concede to your point that it would be better to know how to do such things myself, considering my nightly duties.”

“Wise decision.” Lois smiled. Then she continued with the lesson. 

Dick moved past Bruce with a stack of large speakers on a dolly. The man arched a brow at his eldest. “What are those for?”

“The music.” Dick answered simply. “You didn’t think we were bringing in an orchestra for Jay’s party, did you?”

He hadn’t actually thought of any of the party planning aspects. Not that he was going to admit that. “I suppose not. Are you going digital or have you hired a DJ?”

Dick pulled a MP3 player out of his pocket and gave it a little wave. “Its mostly video game soundtracks Tim said he really liked and a few bands Cass heard him playing at his apartment. When everyone else was shooting down my idea of hiring a Mariachi band, Alfred mentioned that Jason would probably prefer it if it was just the family and close friends of the family here, so we decided against a DJ too.”

That had been thoughtful. Bruce had taken steps to ensure that it wasn’t immediately reported that Jason Todd-Wayne was alive and in Gotham. But he knew they were on borrowed time until it became known to the public. Once that happened, Jason was going to be swarmed. The whole family was going to be. 

They’d all known what was coming once the choice was made to legally bring Jason back. They’d all agreed it was more than worth it with no hesitation. There hadn’t been a single doubt or naysayer among them. Bruce wasn’t sure he’d ever been more proud of his family than the day they’d made the decision. 

It had been a lot of work. Tim and Bruce researched to find a logical way to explain Jason’s well-reported death and the years he spent missing in-between that and his return. Before any legal steps were taken, the whole family had to learn the story. They couldn't afford not to be on the same page with this. They couldn’t have anyone looking into the family any deeper than they already were guaranteed to. 

Overall, Bruce was confident with how everything was handled. They would have this last private celebration as a family, and then they would have Jason’s public homecoming. Jason would hate that one, so it was all the more important that he enjoyed this party. 

It definitely looked like he was going to. Bruce was happy about that. He was happy about a lot of things these days. All of which were tied into his family. 

His was pulled from his musings by Dick. “Hey, do you know where Alfred keeps the fancy punch bowl? Jason’s always liked it, so I thought it would be nice to use it tonight. It’ll also make sure the spiked punch isn’t mistaken for the virgin stuff.”

“Spiked punch?” Bruce frowned. “Jason isn’t old enough to drink, Dick. If he’s going to be legal, he has to act within the law. We discussed this.”

“I thought that was after tonight.” After a brief moment where Dick stared at him in bafflement, the young man broke a smile. “Actually, I was just making sure you were listening. We’ve got punch, Red Hood root beer from Bat-Pizza, and Tim’s making butter beer because it turns out Jason’s a closet Harry Potter fan. Books, not films. Apparently, you _don’t_ want to start that conversation.”

“Noted.” Not that Bruce could add anything to such a conversation, but if it was going to irritate his second son, he’d just as soon avoid the subject altogether. “I’ll get the punch bowl and glasses. You get the table set up. Deal?”

Dick had turned their linen closet into a ‘secret’ tent enough times as a child that he definitely knew where to find the table cloths and napkins. “Deal.” 

In the kitchen, Tim and Conner were rolling what appeared to be hundreds of little jyagatama. Conner was stuffing the occasional ball of potato salad goodness into his mouth. Bruce didn’t blame him. 

Meanwhile, Barbara and Kate were helping Alfred by slicing tomatoes and onions for the burgers while he prepared the vegetables for kebabs. 

The older redhead glanced over the room as she cored another tomato. “American burgers, Mediterranean vegetables, Japanese potatoes, Caribbean candy, European cake, fantasy beverages… I have to say Alfred, you really introduced the kids to a world of different cuisines.”

“That was the idea, Miss Kane.” Alfred looked torn between fondness and regret. “I enjoyed traveling the world in my youth and then again when Master Bruce was young. As I realized we would not have the opportunity to do the same with his children, due to their nighttime habits, I decided to bring the world to them through their studies and meals.”

“And you did a fine job, Alfie.” Tim was gathering the ingredients for what Bruce assumed was butter beer. “I was the only kid at school who’s lunches contained things like falafel or coq a vin with notes on the history of the dish.” The boy smiled. “But your scones and cukewiches are still my favorite.”

That caused the older man to laugh. “At least one of you has come to appreciate a proper English Teatime.”

“Its not that the rest of us don’t appreciate it, Alfred.” Bruce smiled apologetically at the man who’d raised him. “Its just that we get too hungry.”

The older man arched a brow. It somehow always looked more regal on him than when Bruce or any of his kids did it. “Perhaps if you didn’t wait so long between meals, Master Bruce?” 

Kate shared a look with Bruce. “He’s got you there.”

“That he does.” Bruce got the items he’d come for and headed back to the ballroom. He had to fight not to laugh too loudly when he saw Dick had chosen Día de los Muertos colors for the linens. He’d even added some calaveras and was overseeing as Damian and Jon made paper flowers to finish it off.

Dick smiled broadly at the quiet laugh that did escape his father. He gestured around the room with a flourish worthy of the big top. “You have to admit, its fitting.”

Bruce hadn’t even noticed that the banners and everything else went with the color scheme until he saw it all together. “Jason will love it.” It fit his second son’s sense of humor perfectly.

The thought was interrupted by Damian speaking in a somewhat conversational tone. “Jon, cease in making the flowers form your father’s crest or I’m burning them.”

This time, Bruce responded without any ‘support’ from other family members. “Damian, no lighting fires in the Manor outside the fireplace. Jon, no El family crests in Jason’s decorations.”

“But Damian put in a Robin logo.” Jon pointed to the offending display, which Damian was still working on. It was definitely the Robin symbol.

“That’s different.” Damian argued before anyone else could get a word in. “Jason was a Robin. He was killed while serving as Robin. This is part of _his_ legacy. Your crest has nothing to do with him.”

Jon appeared to think over his friend’s argument before nodding and dismantling the _S_ he'd been working on. Bruce had to admit that his son had a pretty solid case. Even still, he wasn’t sure it was appropriate to keep the _R_ , considering Damian’s second point. 

“Do you really think Jason needs to see such a specific reminder of his death, Damian?”

Damain gestured with one hand to take in the entire room. “The whole theme is Day of the Dead. How is _this one thing_ meant to be cruel while the rest is funny?”

“Because that one thing is specific to his _murder_.” Bruce had to work to keep his tone level, if a little rougher than necessary. Talking bout Jason’s death was always hard on him, but Damian was trying to understand and he had to help his youngest when he was trying to be a better person. “Think about the jokes and comments Jason makes on the subject.”

Damian _did_ take a moment to think on his father’s words. Bruce hoped his expression showed that he was pleased by the effort, but considering the subject they were discussing, he doubted it. Fortunately, his youngest came up with a fair response anyway. 

“He brings up the fact that he was deceased and isn’t any longer, but not the specifics of how it happened.” The boy frowned. “He never uses the word ‘murder’ or mentions his murderer by name while on the subject. I’ve never even heard the story from him.” 

Damian looked at his flower arrangement, tucked neatly against a sugar skull. “He won’t actually say anything about it, but he won’t like this.” Without any further remarks, the boy dismantled the _R_ and arranged the flowers in a pretty but meaningless display of color. 

Bruce had moved close enough to his son by then that he was able to pat him on the back. “Good job.”

Damian was clearly trying to figure out if he was being genuinely praised or if it was simple platitude. Bruce patted him again before dropping his hand and nodding toward the flowers. “Your brother will like it.”

Damian nodded. He didn’t smile, but he looked pleased with himself. “He had better. After all the work we’ve put into keeping this party a surprise, I mean.”

“Of course.” Bruce nodded in return. He understood that his youngest didn't like to appear _too_ enthusiastic about things he considered childish or mundane.

“Just wait ‘till you see his face when he realizes all the work we’ve put in for him. It’ll make it all worth it. Trust me.” Dick punctuated the statement by pulling Damian into a surprise hug, which the boy protested but didn’t truly appear to be trying to escape. 

Dick released his youngest sibling when the ballroom door opened. The others came in carrying assorted buffet servers and trays of food. Clark Kent had joined them at some point. He smiled upon seeing Bruce. 

“Sounds like its going to be quite the shindig.” Clark balanced a remarkable number of bags of ice that the others used in the servers as he looked around the room. “Looks great, too. Has your family been working on it all day?”

Bruce nodded and took a couple boxes of Sterno canisters from Kate so she could take them out easier. “And yours too, from what I’ve seen.”

Clark looked happy. “Glad we could help. It _is_ a pretty important event, after all.”

“It certainly is.” Sometimes, it was easy for Bruce to forget that others had been affected by Jason’s death as well. For a while, his grief had consumed him. Clark might not have been as close to his second son as he was his first or youngest, but he’d seen how it affected Bruce and his family. Moreover, he’d seen how his return had impacted them.

After sharing so many bad days, Bruce was glad Clark was there to share some of the good ones too. 

Not that he was going to tell the man. He was already friendly enough as it was. 

“Roy and Jason are heading back here!” Dick announced with barely contained excitement. He laughed at something on his phone and then called out “All Waynes check your phones!” as he did something on his own. 

Bruce was notified of receiving a text. Kate took the empty box from him and he checked to see that Dick had forwarded him a photo from Roy. It was a candid shot of Jason, wearing a Brown Bat sash and smiling charmingly at an elderly lady as he showed her something on the back of a box of Baterang Brownies while Lian Harper was chatting away. Bruce immediately saved it to a hidden file on his phone.

“So how are we surprising him?” Barbara asked. “Just by being here or are we hiding and jumping out?”

Dick smiled and dropped an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “ _Never_ jump out at a Wayne, Babs. We are _way_ too well trained.” 

“Good point.” Barbara smiled then checked her watch. “Perfect. My father’s probably going to arrive about a half hour after Jason. That way, Jason can react without having to worry about giving anything away.”

“ _Thank you_.” Lois threw up a hand. “I’ve been wondering if he knew or not.” It earned a light laugh from Kate and Barbara.

“He only knows Jason as Bruce Wayne’s son, who was believed to have passed.” Bruce trusted Lois to know what it meant that he used his full name rather than saying ‘my’. By her expression, she did. 

They hurried to get everything else in order. Everyone got cleaned up and changed. The grill was heated up, the drinks were chilled, and the buffet was set. The presents were arranged on a separate table and the music started up. The barrel was filled with apples and water and the pinata was filled with hand-wrapped homemade candy before being hoisted into the air to wait for later. Then, everyone waited with growing excitement. 

Alfred’s phone made a tone after some time and the man moved to leave. “That would be the sensor at the gate. I’ll greet them at the door and make an excuse to bring them here.”

While no one jumped out, they did call ‘surprise’ when Jason followed Alfred into the ballroom. 

Dick had been right. The expression on Jason’s face made any effort put into the surprise party more than worth it. It made all the risk and effort put into legally bringing him back worth it. He looked equal parts surprised, touched, and relieved. Bruce could see the moment he realized what the party meant. 

He hadn’t realized how much it weighed on his son to be counted among the dead until he saw that weight leave him. 

It wasn’t the biggest party the ballroom had hosted by a long shot, but it was certainly the happiest one Bruce could remember. 

He’d never known the story of why Alfred had realized that giving Jason Dick’s old room had been a bad idea until he heard his sons tell it that night, talking over each other the whole time. He’d never heard Jason laugh as hard as he did when Bizarro knocked the Batman pinata’s head clean off and then accidentally let go of the bat, which snapped in half upon colliding with Conner’s chest. He’d never before seen the nostalgic look that graced his second son’s face when he tasted the candy his little brother made after tracking down his childhood neighbor to get the recipe. 

He’d never seen Damian simply play before, but the boy had fun competing with Jon and Lian to see who could bob for the most apples. He’d never seen Dick get dizzy until Barbara and Roy decided he needed several extra spins before taking his turn at pin the tail on the donkey. He’d never seen Cassandra goof around with her brothers. He’d never seen Tim allow himself to get lost in a moment. He’d never seen Alfred just sit down and relax. 

Bruce snuck several photos as he experienced all of those things for the first time. Mostly, he knew he’d cherish the memories on dark nights and during quiet moments. 

None of it topped the expression on Jason’s face when he opened Bruce’s gift later that night. He’d had the gun cases made specifically to fit Jason’s bike. The locks he’d customized himself. They needed to keep anyone else out while it still allowing Jason quick and easy access to his weapons. He still wasn’t happy about the guns -he probably never would be, even if Jason mostly used nonlethal ammunition these days- but he was happy to have his son back. And he was proud of him. The card said as much.

He pulled Jason in for a hug when his son thanked him. He was rarely afforded the opportunity to hug his second eldest child, so he held on a little tighter than was probably considered appropriate for a party. He was a little surprised when Jason didn’t pull away after a quick pat on the back, but actually returned the embrace.

Before he did pull away, Jason whispered quickly into his Bruce’s ear, so no one else would hear it. 

“Thanks, Dad.”

A few minutes later, Clark commented that he’d never seen Bruce hold a smile for so long. 

Bruce was still smiling when he replied. 

“Its a good night.”


End file.
